Broken
by nathan-p
Summary: Jeb is gone again. Reilly tries to save him. The best apology I could give. For Caryn.


Jeb is gone again. Reilly can see it in him -- the way he has no energy, no matter how much coffee he drinks, the way just keeping his eyes open is a huge effort. The way his gaze blankly centers, when his eyes are open, on a point somewhere in the blurry middle distance.

Reilly knows this -- Reilly can read the code -- because he's been where Jeb is before, strung out on self-loathing and consuming fear. And because Reilly knows _Jeb_, and not just his affliction -- Reilly knows that Jeb fears showing any sign of "weakness", no matter how small. It's that fear that keeps Jeb moving and trying to work at all, rather than just curling up in bed and staring at the ceiling, letting time fall past him.

And he knows it's bad this time. He's seen Jeb tired and sad before. This is depression, and it's miserably obvious.

"Jeb," Reilly says, and Jeb's eyes move to look through him, the closest he can come to focusing on a face. "Go home."

Jeb's eyelids flutter shut, then struggle open. "You're not real," he says, with difficulty, mumbling the words into each other.

"It's Reilly. You need to go home."

Jeb blinks again, in the same labored way. "Reilly?"

"You're no good to anyone like this," Reilly says.

"Mm. 'Zactly," Jeb says, and nods.

"I'll take you myself," Reilly says.

Jeb's lashes fall closed. "'Kay," he mutters.

Reilly puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. Then he helps Jeb get up from his chair. He feels oddly insubstantial in Reilly's arms, bones too close to his skin.

Jeb leans heavily on Reilly once they're up, but Reilly really doesn't mind -- after all, he remembers how this feels. At least Jeb has someone to hold him.

They make it out into the hall. Jeb makes a weak hissing noise, and his eyes squinch dreamily shut.

Reilly understands. The noise makes Jeb feel even more scatterbrained. That's what he was avoiding, hiding in the lab, trying to convince himself he was well enough to work.

Reilly pulls Jeb closer to him for a moment. "It's OK. I know it's bothering you."

"Mm," Jeb hums.

"See, this happens to me too," Reilly says, and they take a few steps down the hall. "We're the same."

"You're not a failure," Jeb says, and sways lightly on his feet, almost losing his balance. "You're not -- like me. You don't -- deserve me. No one does." He almost falls, but Reilly catches him as they turn the corner.

No one's in the hall, and at its end is the door that goes outside. They can make it. "Why do you think I stick around?" Reilly asks.

"You pity me," Jeb slurs.

Reilly flashes his card, and the door opens. They step out, and after the door's closed, Reilly pulls Jeb closer, knowing that he needs to feel valued. "No, dammit. I love you, that's why."

Jeb struggles to focus on him, blank eyes puzzled. "'M a failure," he says.

Reilly doesn't let go. "No, you're not."

"You're lying," Jeb says.

"Why would I do that?" Reilly says, feeling tears starting to burn in his own eyes.

"You want... to fool me," Jeb says. "Make me feel like I'm not... what I am."

Reilly flashes his card at the door, and they step inside. The door to Jeb's room hangs open. It's not too far.

"No," Reilly says. "That's not it."

"What is it, then?" Jeb hisses, words coming faster with rage. "Why would you stick around someone who's such a fucking failure?"

He twists and thrashes away from Reilly -- Reilly lets him get away.

"Because you're not a failure," Reilly tells him, and kicks the door shut.

"What the fuck am I, then?" Jeb slumps into a chair.

"You're a brilliant geneticist."

"No, 'm not." Jeb stares at his hands, eyes unfocusing again.

"You're witty -- you're smart."

"I can't hold a fucking conversation," Jeb snaps. "Can't find my keys, can't do fucking _anything_. I'm worthless."

"No, you're not," Reilly says, and he can feel tears in his eyes again.

"Why the fuck are you still here?" Jeb says, but the anger's passed away, smothered by despair.

"Because I love you." Reilly knows he won't believe it, but it's still worth a try.

Jeb's eyes drift closed, then open, blank expression backed by anger. "'S what they all said," he hisses. "They all _left_. Because of me."

"It wasn't your fault," Reilly says.

"It _was_," Jeb says, stubborn.

"I know that's what you think," Reilly says, "but it's not true."

"How do you _know_?" Jeb snarls. "You're like everyone else. You want to fool me."

"No, I don't," Reilly says, knowing he won't hear.

"Maybe you don't," Jeb says dubiously, then raises his hands and claws his glasses off, nails scraping the skin heedlessly. He drops the glasses on the desk, says quietly, "I'm so fucking _weak_. Believing you."

"What about you is weak?" Reilly says.

"Emotion," Jeb says curtly. "They're weak. This is weak. Fucking _leave_."

"_No_," Reilly says, surprised by the fierceness in his own voice. "You're not weak. You're anything but."

Jeb grins, lips peeling back to bare his teeth. "Fooled you. 'M _weak_, Reilly. Not in _control_."

"No one's always in control," Reilly says.

"Should be."

"You _can't_ be," Reilly says. "You can't just get rid of your emotions like that."

"Why not?" Jeb says. "I've been doing it all my life."

"It's not healthy," Reilly says. "Eventually _this_ happens."

"I made a mistake," Jeb says. "I'll fix it. Make it work."

"You always say that."

"It's always worked," he snaps, and then folds in on himself. "Fucking _leave_, _now_," he says.

"No," Reilly says, and his mouth tastes bitter and dry. "I know you don't want me to."

"Then _don't_," Jeb says. "Watch me break."

"I won't let you," Reilly says simply.

Jeb starts shaking. "Please," he whispers, and Reilly sees, in imaginative double vision, his soul laid open. He's laid out all his perceived weaknesses in front of Reilly, dissected them open for him to see. "Please," and his voice is hardly audible.

"I'm here," Reilly says, and captures Jeb's flyaway self in an embrace as tight as he can make it. Because he knows Jeb needs him, and that's good enough.


End file.
